


Useless

by samslostshoe



Series: Grimmons Angst [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Comfort, M/M, and not my best, but it was cute to write, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2190330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samslostshoe/pseuds/samslostshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grif is tired of feeling useless and Simmons tries to comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Useless

**Author's Note:**

> Originally on [tumblr](http://redvsboohoo.tumblr.com/post/90881408980/grimmons-im-sick-of-being-useless). And I flew beta-less on this one, so I apologize for weak plot/sentence structure. 

Simmons walked into his room, ready to crash after a hard day of doing nothing and listening to Sarge's ridiculous rants, only to find that his bunk was already occupied.

"Grif?" he asked, incredulous. "What the fuck are you doing in my bed?"

"Hiding from Sarge, what else?" Grif blinked up at him innocently, but his face was missing its usual sarcastic twist. He looked tired. And a little sad.

Simmons sat down on the edge of the bed. “Hey, you okay?”

"Yeah," Grif said, waving his hand, "I’m fine."

When Simmons looked at him doubtfully, Grif caved.

"It’s just…I’m sick of it, you know?" he said, covering his eyes with his arm, making a point not to look at Simmons.

"Sick of what?" Simmons asked.

Grif sighed. “I’m sick of being useless.”

Simmons started to say, “You’re not—,” but Grif silenced him with a look. Grif was pretty useless. But he always had been.

"I can’t do anything right," Grif went on. "I mean, really, I can’t do  _anything_. Everyone knows me as the lazy guy who doesn’t contribute anything to the team. Even the Blues! And while that’s true, everyone also thinks I  _can’t_ contribute anything. And you know what, Simmons?” Simmons shook his head. “I’m starting to think I can’t.”

"Grif," Simmons said, trying to comfort him, "I’m sure—,"

"Shut the fuck up, Simmons. I don’t need you to patronize me." Grif turned over and faced the wall. Simmons knew he was done talking.

And in that moment, Simmons felt useless too. He couldn’t think of anything to make Grif feel better. The only thing he could think to do was just stay there with him, and maybe just being there would be enough. He lay down along the length of Grif's body, putting his arm around Grif’s waist and holding him loosely.

And that was enough.


End file.
